The Hermit
by SpeakingMyMind
Summary: Based on Tom Stoppard's play Arcadia. Septimus Hodge looks back on his life, his love and looks forward to his new life as the hermit.


I walked into the room where I would be staying for quite some time, most likely years. There was a chair, a table, a bed, a fireplace and a piano, as I had requested. I sighed as I looked into the fireplaces, knowing how my love had died from flames like those just a week ago. Thomasina Coverly was quite a bright girl, even at the age of 13. I remember her asking me such bizarre questions and actually looking for an answer. Being her tutor, I knew I had to answer them as best I could. I did just so, when I could, that is. As years progressed, I felt a deep love for mother, Lady Croom. I even told her so one evening, but that 'love' was nothing compared to Thomasina. We kissed first about two weeks before her 17th birthday in the garden. I thought it foolish and tried to forget it.

Yet Thomasina did not want to forget it. Days later when she reminded me of it, I pretended to have forgotten it ever happen when in reality that was all my mind ever wanted to think of. She saddened thinking I cared not for her, but held strong at what she wanted. Waltz lessons. She asked me to teacher how to waltz so to attract a pleasant suitor. My payment would be a kiss. Once before and once after. The one before was obviously the one in the garden that I had, 'forgotten' about. On the eve of her birthday, she came down to the main room where I was grading her paper in her nightgown and bare feet. She kissed me, giving me my payment in advance and asking for her waltz lesson. We waltzed on and on until our lips met again. This I knew was my true love. Waltzing really did find her a pleasant suitor. Once done waltzing, I handed back her paper. "I give it an alpha in blind faith," I had said, as if the paper had really mattered. We waltzed on until or feet we sore. I handed her candle back to her, warning her to be careful with the flame. If I had known that night she would be burned to death, I would have brought her back up to her room and saved her, or at least burn with her.

Now, instead, I am in this room, off away from the main house and all its habitants. Away from Lady Croom, Ezra Chater, Lady Chater, Captain Edward Brice and most importantly Lord Byron, my 'old school friend.' I would miss some people, but I would mostly miss Thomasina whom I knew could never return.

Suddenly Jellaby, the butler walked into my room. "You do know that no one is to enter this room, do you not?" I asked him.

"Sir, I have but one note for you. I was ordered to bring it to you and told it would be the only note you would get unless you respond or there is other circumstances," he said in a monotone voice. I snatched the note from him and opened it. It was from Lady Croom. It said but seven words. _'I shall marry Lord Byron. –Lady Croom.' _ I tore up the sheet and threw it back at Jellaby.

"Shall I take this as your response, Septimus?" Jellaby said, picking up the remains of the note.

"That's Mr. Hodge to you, Jellaby!" I snapped at him.

"Shall I take this as your response, Mr. Hodge?" Jellaby sneered.

"No. I have no response to such a note. What response do you want? _'I shall burn your children like your other child burned on their 17th birthdays'? _ What can I say to them?" I shouted. It was unlike me to be so sharp, but I was hurt and shocked. Her daughter dies and she goes to get married? What kind of a woman is Lady Croom?

"Very well, Mr. Hodge. I shall take my leave, unless there is something else you need." Jellaby said.

"No, nothing else, Jellaby." I responded. I knew this may be the only company I would have until I die, but I did not care. 'The sooner I am only, the sooner I can start healing.' I thought. I needed healing from many things.

One was obviously the loss of my Thomasina. Burned to death on the eve of her 17th birthday, what a way to leave this world. I would miss her terribly. Her quick mind and quicker tongue. He bright conversations that varied between house gossip and the math of an apple leaf. I believe she was the first to think of that, the math of an apple leaf. Now she may have no credit at all, because of the flames that took her life. I looked back at the fireplace. The flames seemed to be mocking me while dancing in their hearth. I could just imagine Thomasina's comments to such flames. "But Septimus, could one not dance like flames dance? I'm sure I could learn. You could teach me, I'm sure you could. Oh, please teach me how to dance like flames. How graceful it would be, don't you think, Septimus?" I smiled picturing her walking around the room asking me such questions. I needed to heal from that, which would most likely take the most time of all.

I needed to heal from the thought of Lady Croom and Lord Byron. How sick, how disgusting. Whilst still mourning over your dead child, you rejoice in a new love? How can you live with yourself while you ignored your duty to mourn and remember a child? Then, she only remembered Thomasina when she was alive when Lady Croom happened to stumbled upon her in her studies. Such a horrible mother, before and after life. I can barely believe I ever thought I loved her.

I looked around the room and sat on the chair. I had to accept my new life. Nothing other than me, my thoughts and this room. I had become the hermit.


End file.
